Liu Cixin's "The Three-Body Problem" takes its title from one of physics' most frustrating challenges: predicting the motion of three gravitating bodies. While two bodies orbit predictably according to simple equations, adding just one more body creates chaos—literally. The three-body problem has no general analytical solution. The future becomes unpredictable, not because we lack information, but because the system itself is chaotic.
As I read the novel and pondered the physics, I couldn't help but see theological parallels. The tension between divine sovereignty and human free will has puzzled theologians for millennia. Could chaos theory offer fresh perspectives on this ancient problem?
Determinism Versus Predictability
Here's what fascinates me: chaotic systems are deterministic but unpredictable. Given perfect information about initial conditions, a three-body system's future is theoretically determined by the laws of physics. Yet in practice, tiny uncertainties in initial conditions grow exponentially, making long-term prediction impossible.
This distinction between determinism and predictability is crucial. Many theological debates about free will assume these are the same thing—that if God knows the future, it must be determined, and if determined, then not free. But chaos theory shows these concepts can come apart.
Sensitive Dependence
Chaos theory's key insight is sensitive dependence on initial conditions: tiny changes lead to radically different outcomes. The famous "butterfly effect" illustrates this—a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil theoretically could trigger a tornado in Texas.
Now consider human choices. Each decision, however small, affects future possibilities. My choice to study theology rather than physics changed who I met, what I learned, how my brain developed. These changes cascaded through countless subsequent decisions, each with their own cascading effects.
In a chaotic universe, even small exercises of free will can have unbounded consequences. God needn't micromanage every event to ensure His purposes are fulfilled—He can work through the chaotic sensitivity of the system itself.
Autistic Pattern Recognition
My autistic brain loves patterns and systems, which is probably why I'm drawn to both theology and physics. But I've had to learn that not all systems are predictable, even when they're ordered.
This was initially frustrating. I wanted clear, deterministic rules for how everything works—theological and physical. But chaos theory taught me that a system can be perfectly lawful yet still surprising. The universe follows precise mathematical laws while remaining open to genuine novelty.
This feels analogous to divine providence. God's sovereign will provides the "laws" that govern redemptive history, yet within those constraints, real choices with real consequences occur.
The Three Bodies: God, Humanity, and Creation
Liu's novel portrays three suns creating chaos for a planet's civilization. Theologically, consider a different triad: God, humanity, and the rest of creation. Each affects the others in complex, interactive ways.
God sustains creation and acts within it. Humanity makes choices that affect creation and respond to God. Creation follows natural laws that constrain both human action and provide the medium for divine action. The interactions between these three create a system far more complex than any orbital mechanics problem.
Traditional theological frameworks often tried to simplify this to a two-body problem: just God and humanity, with creation as passive backdrop. But Scripture portrays creation as active participant—groaning in anticipation, declaring God's glory, awaiting redemption.
Recognizing creation's active role complicates our theology, much as the third body complicates orbital mechanics. But it also makes the system richer, more realistic, more adequate to scriptural testimony.
Quantum Chaos
Things get even more interesting when we combine chaos theory with quantum mechanics. Quantum chaos explores how quantum systems can exhibit chaotic behavior. The future becomes not just unpredictable but genuinely indeterminate—multiple possible futures exist until wave function collapse selects one.
This provides another angle on free will. Perhaps human choices are like quantum measurements—genuine selections among real possibilities, not predetermined outcomes of prior causes. The universe branches, and our choices help determine which branch becomes actual.
I'm not claiming this solves the free will problem—I'm not even sure the problem is solvable in purely philosophical terms. But it does show that modern physics offers richer conceptual resources than the mechanical determinism that shaped much classical theology.
The Limits of Calculation
One of "The Three-Body Problem's" themes is the limits of calculation. The Trisolarans develop sophisticated models but can't predict their own civilization's survival. Their computer (built from soldiers!) can simulate but not solve.
Similarly, theological systems that try to calculate exactly how sovereignty and freedom interact inevitably fail. Not because God lacks sovereignty or humans lack freedom, but because the interaction between them is more complex than our conceptual models can capture.
My autistic desire for systematic completeness has to yield to epistemic humility. Some truths are too complex for our models, even when the underlying reality is perfectly coherent.
Providence in a Chaotic Universe
So what does divine providence look like in a chaotic universe? Not micromanagement of every particle position, but something subtler and stranger.
God establishes the laws that govern the system—physical and moral. Within those laws, chaotic dynamics generate genuine novelty and possibility. Human choices navigate this space of possibilities, making real decisions with real consequences. And somehow—mysteriously—God ensures that His ultimate purposes are fulfilled without violating the integrity of the system.
It's like a master chess player who can guarantee victory without predetermining every move. The difference is that God isn't playing against the universe—He created it, sustains it, and works redemptively within it.
Science Fiction as Theology Lab
This is why I love science fiction. Liu Cixin probably wasn't thinking about divine providence when he wrote about three-body dynamics. But his exploration of chaos, predictability, and complex systems provides conceptual tools for theological reflection.
Science fiction lets us explore "what if" scenarios that illuminate actual theological questions. What if reality is fundamentally chaotic? What if multiple futures are genuinely possible? What if order and unpredictability coexist?
These aren't just thought experiments—they describe our actual universe, as revealed by modern physics.
Conclusion
The three-body problem can't be solved analytically, but three bodies can orbit stably in certain configurations. The system is chaotic but not random, unpredictable but not lawless.
Perhaps the relationship between divine sovereignty and human freedom is similar. We can't solve it analytically—can't reduce it to simple equations or philosophical formulas. But that doesn't mean the system is incoherent. It means we're dealing with a reality more complex than our models can fully capture.
As someone who thinks systematically, this is both frustrating and liberating. Frustrating because I can't achieve complete understanding. Liberating because it means reality is richer than any system I could construct.
The universe is chaotic, beautiful, and governed by laws. God is sovereign, mysterious, and grants genuine freedom. And somehow, impossibly, wonderfully, it all works together.
Like three bodies dancing through space—unpredictable yet determined, chaotic yet stable, following laws that create infinite possibility.